


Action on Alcatraz Island

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: LowRes [21]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Cock Worship, Cum Eating, Exhibitionism, F/M, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, Masks, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Public Hand Jobs, Recreational Drug Use, Spooning, Wet & Messy, Witty Banter, chilling after a mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-15 05:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: Wrench and LowRes get up to some stoned shenanigans while waiting on Alcatraz Island for Sitara to shake the cops. Needless to say, Wrench gets his mind blown. <3Anon asked: Im back for more Wrench and Lowres I love the way you write them!! could you write another high one, maybe low using Wrench's mask as well?A/N: Day 6 of Kinktober for cock worship. Low doesn't use Wrench's mask, but it's a conversation piece for sure. Hope you like it!





	Action on Alcatraz Island

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



“So, I don’t know why I haven’t thought about this before but… do you have night vision on that thing?” It’s a casual question while you both share a joint, passing the time until Sitara speedboats the cops away from the island and swings back around to pick you guys up.

“Night vision. Thermal vision. Fourth-dimension vision… ‘THEY LIVE’ vision-” he says with a clean groggy voice - his mask resting safely beside your hip as he snuggles the back of his head over your chest and says some long-winded thing about your ‘sweet pillows.’

It’s about quarter-past midnight, maybe… and everything aside from the cityscape is a dark miasma, but for the glow of the moon above their heads and the cherry on the joint you’re both sharing. It’s peaceful like few things in the city are, and as much as you like the soul pounding Frisco vibes, the retreat from its gleam is pleasant in a way few things so innocently are...

… or maybe you’re just stoned. 

Wrench takes a long, chest-stretching drag from the spliff and exhales a cloud of grape smelling weed. 

You grumble happily as he wiggles his shoulders against your ribs, using your body as a bed and your tits as a pillow. With a peck to the top of his head, you pluck the joint from his fingers. He’s already way too stoned, but who gives a shit? The mission is over… there’s nothing pressing left except to wait, and he deserves to unwind after climbing up and down several dozen cell blocks in over three hours.

Poor tuckered out hooligan, you think lovingly. The dude is gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow.

As he unwinds, you pet down his hair and snag the joint with your teeth, inhaling a decent lungful that covers your taste buds in earthy purple. It’s not precisely grape, but it’s definitely purp… and as far as weed goes, it’s delicious. You only ever smoke with Wrench, because it’s always been one of those things that you’ve tried off and on with others and very much disliked. There’s just something about Wrench’s protective presence and loving contact that ruins any chance for a bad trip; abolishing any and all negative feelings. 

Right now, the headband-high is creeping around your temples. The silent buzz that could quickly make you paranoid is nothing but a warm blanket with Wrench nuzzling so close. It’s wonderful… and hot - like… a summer day in the middle of a chilly night. It’s the same feeling of his limbs wrapped around you after a hot session of toe-curling sex, getting peppered in silly kisses and wet raspberries. 

“Starting to wonder if dump vision is possible,” he adds out of nowhere. 

“Hmm?”

Wrench giggles menacingly, or tries to, but it comes out husky and exhausted and kinda reedy, “I bet with enough ‘finagling’ I could accurately depict how much shit is in legit shitheads. Determine how full of crapola someone actually is and of course react accordingly. Spiked baseball bats and bottle rocket spears!”

Against you, Wrench deflates with his arms splayed over your lifted thighs while you puff on the joint, giggle softly and pick a fallen leaf off his hoodie-clad chest. 

“That’s both gross and impressive… how about brain mass? Like X-ray vision?” You muse, rubbing warmth into his chest as he breathes deeply, “you could see how pea-sized someone’s brain is before wasting your time on them.”

“Well, someone’s judgey…” he slurs comically; a grin in his tone. 

“At least I’m not the one who wants to see how full someone’s digestive tract is, weirdo.”

“That’s Sargent Weirdo to you.”

“Alright, Sarge… what time you got?”

Wrench lifts his phone up and rests it over his groin, jerks his wrist until the screen kicks on and sinks further against your smaller body, “Waaaaaay past your bedtime.”

Eh, it’s well past midnight, but if his phone had read nine, you’d have accepted that for truth too. It doesn’t feel so late, but that’s all adrenaline talking. It’ll be fifteen to twenty minutes until Sitara shakes off the SFPD… or more, so that means you’ve got time to keep relaxing without worrying about moving for a while. 

Wrench turns his head and breaths in the fabric covering your breasts, exhaling hot air that soaks down to the skin beneath. You moan quietly, leaning back in the nook between two concrete planters with skinny pink trees blowing in the midnight breeze. 

Alcatraz Island seems to float on the water… swaying with your high as the joint hangs between your fingers. Everything looks soft, destabilized like fragile code, but Wrench is heavy and alive and beautiful. 

The waves lap softly at the rocky shore - the sea breeze is briny and crisp and refreshing. It’s relaxing despite the recent memory of sirens and megaphone warnings. The island is deserted this time of night… except for the security guards who are still tied up at their stations, looking at disabled cameras to pass the time until morning. Poor, bored fuckers, you think with a tiny smile. At least the unlawfully abducted and interrogated detainees are free from knuckle sandwiches and threats. 

“Hey, so… how about Cyco Vision?” You ask - thoughts wandering - humming the classic Suicidal Tendencies song over the crown of his head as he kick-taps the air with his chucks. A warmth radiates up your thighs as his long engineering-fingers rap your bare calves to the tune in both your heads. He’s adorable and sweaty, smelling like musk and Old Spice mixed with adrenaline and weed. 

If you weren’t so sure Sitara would show up out of the blue, you’d toss him back over the walkway and blow him for all he was worth. Being stoned always lowers your inhibitions and frequently led to happy-headed sex with intense orgasms that lead to more… incredible orgasms. 

“It’s got ‘sex vision’ for sure,” Wrench mumbles, sounding tired but happy and comfy, “actually scratch that noise. I’m the one with the sex vision.”

“Oh, yeah?” You ask with a smirk; fingers massaging across his pectorals.

“Oh. Yeah,” Wrench repeats, “Okay… So, there’s this one girl, right?! I can look at this certain, specific hot tamale - with a dynamite booty and tiggle’biddies… all the right taste in music - and know exactly how wet she is at ANY given moment.”

“Seems more like a superpower, plus... this ‘one girl’ sounds pretty banging,” you reply with a smirk and comb away some of his drying bangs; thumb massaging away leftover tension in his forehead, just below his hairline. You put the dead joint to his mouth, feel his lips latch around the roach as he digs the lighter out his pocket and lights it back up with one snap. Wrench’s spit soaks into your fingers as he takes a hard pull - finishing off the spliff - and exhales a large, water-obscuring cloud. 

You flick the roach out across the walkway. The tiny cherry sparks and scatters across the dark concrete in slow motion; captivating as the drugs hit their zenith. It’s a bit overwhelming… a bit too much, so you wrap your arms around Wrench and nuzzle the top of his head until his smell calms your racing heart. Sweat, natural oils, Old Spice and that musky undertone of boy-room soothes the nerves.

Wrench sinks further against you - his weight a reminder that’s he’s here with you no matter what - and sighs in stoned contentment. He’s basking in the high and your attention, and like a sponge, you leech off his happiness until that little sparkle of paranoia fizzles out, leaving you a giggling mess of horny affection.

He spreads his feet out with a few knee bending kicks and squeezes your legs softly as if he knows what’s running through your bloodstream. 

“Yeah, this girl, doood...” he groans into your massaging thumbs and gentle, scratching nails across his chest and scalp, “... fuck, she sucks a mean cock too. Probably shadows as a xenomorph ass-kicker on the weekends, not to mention... she can hack a B-fifty-two if she wanted. Also… pretty sure she’s super-soakered right now.”

You bite your tongue, blush and rest a palm over his heart, “Easy guess, Wrench… I’m pretty much fondling you up right now.” 

“Good thing you’re getting brain-bombed with the master of pussy eating… wanna take these shorts off and get even wetter??” He says while running his warm, callus-riddled palms up to your calves, over your knees and back down to your ankles. Goosebumps rise up over your legs, leading tingles up between your thighs where his lower back is resting heavily.

Wrench and his banter always gets you going like foreplay does… or maybe it’s the weed mixed with the delayed feeling of vigor from the short police chase, but you find yourself massaging your fingers down Wrench's tight chest, down his stomach until you can’t reach further in your current position. Getting your cunt munched on by Wrench when he’s got one thing on his mind - pussy - is excellent… but you’ve got one thing on your mind right now also, and it’s a veiny, pierced cock that looks like it’s about ready to bust outta his jeans. 

Your spikey, lazy boyfriend takes a long moment to realize what’s on your mind until you start tugging at his thin hoodie and give his tufts of silvery locks a husky confession, “Maybe I’ll take them off later, but… I’m so high right now… all I wanna do to play with your cock until our ride gets here.”

“...Low,” Wrench says with short breath, “if you so much as breathe on it, I’m gonna have cum stains on these jeans. Again.”

“As if that’s ever stopped you,” you whisper against the crown of his head and lay a flat hand on his now bare stomach; stroking the soft indents of muscle and light hair where his creamy skin is marked by tattooed iconography, “come on… sit up and unzip your pants for me, please?”

Wrench doesn’t say a word, just moves up until your chin is resting on his studded shoulder - until your legs are spread and bent around his hips. 

He undoes his jeans, and you slip both hands down his tense abdomen, inside his open pants to find his hot, rock-hard cock. He has to wiggle his ass in order to dislodge the thick blood-log from the crease of his jeans, but once his dick is free, all your focus centers down on the weight and shape of the hard flesh inside your palms. You breathe the smell of musky cock deeply, fading weed and brackish bay water.

There’s no time to suck him off, but there are equally fun ways of getting him off; loving his dick just like your stoned body and mind wants. 

Wrench groans and grabs the raised edge of the tree planter. He braces a palm on the ground by your hip and lifts his hips, swallows audibly as you stroke the pad of your thumb along the ridge of his flared cockhead, picking up the little dribble of precum to further wet the distended mushroom cap that’s just so… so sensitive. 

“Sitara could show up,” Wrench breathes through a shiver as you run clipped nails gently down one side of his cock, “... at any moment… what if she-“

“What if she sees you with your cock out? Dude,” you lean forward and kiss the side of his shoulder through raised studs - licking the metal tang off several as you worship the cock in your hands, “just watch for the boat lights… and let me give Wrench Junior Jr. a nice… wet,” another kiss closer to his neck, “tender…” lips on his bare skin, “massage.”

“Besides,” you continue, “when have you ever worried about someone catching you with your pants down?”

“Damn, you’re right - that feels so good by the way…”

He power breathes through the pleasure while you’re busy feeling up the long stiff vein that runs down the underside of Wrench’s meat stick; thumbs digging into the grooves on either side… up and down… rubbing with both greedy hands.

Wrench throws his head back beside your temple, groans long and loud and grips the edge of the planter. He’s trembling like a drunken, sleepy punk before gasping when your thumb sweeps back over his slit, jostling his piercing without mercy. He stares back up at the starry sky and moans, saying your real name under his breath. He surprises you by releasing his grip on the planter, suddenly shouldering the wall of concrete and grabbing the base of his cock with a strangling snarl. 

He was already about to cum…

“Damn, dude,” you smile and chuckle, still smearing bubbles of precum down and around the weighty tip of his cock. 

“Too close,” Wrench pants; cinching his cock with a hard fist.

While he staves off a load of cum, you make a tight circle of your thumb and forefinger, straining to touch fingertips together but failing. Fuck it, you think and smile, wringing the underside of the flared cap in a snug ring of thumb and finger; relishing the soft pop of his distended glans and that first inch of cock below the fat head. Wrench hisses, trying to keep the cum down - trying to hold off his orgasm - but fails. 

You moan against his bundled up hood at the back of his neck, catch the jettisons of cum in your palm and proceed to gently lather his dick in the juicy, salty jizz until Wrench is mewling like a baby animal; muttering pillow talk and stoned ramblings. There’s a wince or two in his voice, but that’ll go away soon. 

Because he’s high as fucking Sputnik, he can handle more after-contact than usual.

The great thing about a stoned Wrench is that with the right slippery touch, you can make him cum more than once. The excess cum - the ultra wet and lubed strokes - keep him on edge. His orgasm lingers, trailing off only to pick back up with a tug on his slippery dick ring. 

“Yeah-“ Wrench gasps, already beating the base of his cock off while you glide light fingertips up and down and around the tip of his cherry-red dick. Another leak of cum dribbles out his slit, adding to the coating of gooey goodness until Wrench is trembling - shivering - against you in the throes of another lightning-pop orgasm. 

“... fuck me,” he practically gurgles.

One more, you think, biting your lower lip as you peep over Wrench’s studded shoulder to the dark bay as the wind chops the water in soft, undulating waves. 

Around your fingers, Wrench’s cock pulsates. The cum run sticky and dry, and so you nuzzle your nose into his neck and ask him with wet heat pounding in your empty cunt, “You wanna suck on my fingers? You’re getting a little… tacky.”

Wrench bows his head - a silent ‘yes’ and opens his mouth around the three fingers you bring to his lips. Sloppy and high, he licks them clean as his fist tightens on the base of all that thick, well-loved cock just below your own loose fist. 

Your insides tighten as his teeth rake your knuckles. You make a soft, slightly surprised but happy moan against his hoodie as he drools over your digits and bites the tip of your middle finger with a snarky sound. 

Ever the anarchist, you think with a smirk, lowering your slippery fingers back to his cock, wetting the head of it until everything is nice and slick again. 

Wrench whimpers, digs his heels into the pathway and grunts as you roll both thumbs in sweeping outward motions below the flare of his cockhead; fingers flicking the piercing until he’s chanting how he’s gonna cum… gonna cum… fuck-

“... fuck! Gonna cum… gonna cum. I’m gonna cum again…” as he’s repeating such lovely, mushy sentiments, boat lights appear on the water. 

You suck in a breath, feel your heart race as Sitara’s unmistakable speedboat grows closer. Thankfully, Wrench is dribbling a nice little load of cum into your hands, pumping his hips and coming down with the speed of a freight train careening off a cliff at light speed.

Before Sitara can turn the boat into the rocking waves that surround the island, you squeeze up cum off his cock with a rough fist before quickly - hurriedly - turning his dick down against the seam of his jeans. 

You shake your hand off, dislodging a wad of jizz to the pathway and wipe the rest off on your shorts without thinking. 

“Snap out of it, Wrench,” you whisper nervously; heart pounding as he groans and lazily starts zipping his cock back down, too weak or just too high to ‘give a fuck’ about buttoning his jeans. 

It’s a toss-up whether or not Sitara saw anything, but she laughs at the two of you when she pulls up to the dock, finding you and Wrench still slumped in your little nook; eyes glassy and bloodshot. 

“Hope you’ve got more of that reefer madness on you Wrench!” The purple haired vixen shouts over the rattling engine, “I just pulled off the most insane loop with our biggest fans. Those boys in blue are still searching this one dickhead's night charter boat.”

You shove Wrench off you by the back of his shoulders, watch him groan like a twit and fall dramatically forward against the concrete as if he’s brain dead. 

Sitara huffs, you laugh, and Wrench just slumps into the hard ground and gurgles. 

The boat trip back is a bumpy ride over waves and filled with the tang of freshly burnt purp while Wrench starfishes over the deck of the boat like he’s been drained of any and all fluids this evening… which… he sorta was… but it was hot and worth it, and it seems Sitara was none the wiser.

“Is that a semen stain on your shorts?”

Well, almost none the wiser, you think; turning red while she throws her head back and cackles.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a comment letting me know what worked for you or what didn't.
> 
> Thank you to GingerCollegeGirl for betaing! <3
> 
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